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writesvani · 19 days ago

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down low | 01

boxer! jungkook x collegestudent! reader

SUMMARY: There's no love, there are no fights with Jungkook—just a twisted addiction that keeps you crawling back. You tell yourselves it’s not toxic. After all, you never argue, never get jealous. Just fuck, lie, and slip back into the arms of the people who will never know.

It’s not love.

But it sure as hell isn’t nothing.

friends with benefits au, situationship au

TRIGGER WARNINGS: sexual content, guilt, manipulation, secrecy, emotional conflict, cheating, voyeurism, risky behavior, sexting

comment here for the Down Low taglist;

SERIES M.LIST;

— next chapter

wc: 3,6k // date: 10th of April 2025

CHAPTER ONE — U Up?; happy reading my gummies...

AN: okay, so here's a highly questionable cast of characters that i lowkey (highkey) despise. like, seriously, i’m not sure who let them be this messy, but here we are. anyway, just to clarify, i don’t condone cheating, but since this is fiction, i’m gonna let them do their absolutely horrible, unhinged thing.

also, this series was supposed to be a 5-chapter thing, each chapter a massive 10k words (i know, i had big plans), but since i don't have time to edit those giant chapters rn, i’ve decided to split it up into smaller ones. because we all deserve a little chaos in bite-sized pieces, right?

as for the note goal… who even knows how to set these things? like, chapter one is out and my m.list has around 1.6k notes, so let’s be HIGHLY ambitious and say chapter 2 will drop once we hit 800 notes. i mean, let’s aim high, people, right? let’s get those notes!

If there were a proper title to give you, it wouldn’t be something graceful or kind. No, it would be a creature of bad habits.

Greedy—that’s what they call you. And maybe they’re right. Because how could you ever be satisfied with what you already have? You crave more. Always more. More love. More passion. More friendships. More fun. More everything. It’s intoxicating, that hunger. Isn’t that just human nature, though? To want, to chase, to reach for the things just out of grasp?

You never understood the point of settling. Why would anyone cling to a single slice when the whole cake is within reach? But greed doesn’t come alone. No, it always brings a shadow—possessiveness.

Even as a little girl, you despised sharing. Your toys were yours. Your parents’ attention? Yours, too—until your little brother arrived and shattered that illusion. You learned to live with it. You adapted. But when it came to your friends… that instinct never faded. They were yours. Always.

So maybe it makes sense that now, as a woman, you have a loyal, sweet boyfriend who adores you—completely unaware that he shares you with another man when the night grows heavy and dark.

Sometimes, you think he’s stupid. The way he never even considers the possibility of someone else touching you, breathing your name while he sleeps, studies or works late hours. The way he never questions your sudden silences, your empty stare, the soft smell of someone else’s cologne lingering in your hair.

Sometimes, you think he’s cute. Sweet, even. Taehyung trusts you blindly, so deeply, it almost breaks your heart.

And sometimes—on the rare nights when your body aches from carrying secrets and your soul feels raw—you’re grateful for him. He’s the shoulder you cry on when the weight becomes too much, the arms that hold you when you feel like falling apart. Maybe… maybe he’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

And yet—despite all of that—you still do it. You still let another man kiss the guilt off your skin. You still let another man wreck you in ways you never let Taehyung see.

Do you feel guilty? Occasionally. But guilt?

Guilt is for the weak.

Because the truth is—you can’t stop. Even when you know it’s wrong. Even when it makes you question everything.

Are you a bad person?

No.

Just… human.

Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

The honeyed scent of Taehyung’s skin wraps around you like a memory you never asked for. It’s warm, familiar—safe. His arm is thrown lazily over your waist, fingers curled like he’s afraid of losing you even in sleep. He’s close—so close it should feel like home. His chest rises and falls behind you, a steady rhythm you’ve come to memorize. His soft snores echo in the quiet, like a lullaby meant just for you.

You should be asleep.

You should be calm. At peace.

But you’re not.

Your eyes flutter open again, lashes brushing your cheeks with every blink. Frustration bubbles beneath your skin as you squint at the red digits on the nightstand. 01:34 AM.

You have classes in the morning. Work after that. Your entire day is stitched together with responsibilities, expectations, and the mask you’ve been perfecting for months, years even. Still, sleep refuses to take you. It stays just out of reach, mocking you.

Your fingers flex around Taehyung’s forearm—his skin warm under your touch—and he shifts closer, unconsciously drawn to you. It makes you smile. He’s too adorable for his own good when he sleeps. Soft. Vulnerable.

Yours.

You almost turn toward him. Almost let yourself bury your face in the crook of his neck. Let his scent rock you to sleep like it’s done a hundred times before.

Almost.

Until a sound cuts through the silence.

A ping. Soft, sharp. Familiar.

Your body stiffens. Taehyung mumbles something incoherent, lips brushing your shoulder, and you feel the faintest trace of drool there. He’s out cold.

You reach for the nightstand like you’ve done it a thousand times. No hesitation. No second guessing. You already know who it is.

Of course it’s him.

Your screen lights up with a message so simple it makes your stomach flip.

JK: u up?

It’s always like this.

He waits until Eunji is asleep, until the world is quiet, until you’re wrapped in someone else’s arms—and then he texts. Always at night. Always in secret.

And you?

You always answer.

Because your little game only lives in the shadows, breathing between midnight texts and silenced guilt.

Because even though you’re lying in Taehyung’s bed, wearing his t-shirt, listening to the steady beat of his heart—

You're never really his. Not fully.

Not when Jungkook’s name has the power to set your entire body on fire.

you: mhmm, but thinking of dozing off rn

JK: c’mon bby, don’t fall asleep on me now, wya?

you: taehyung’s. wby?

JK: home. but eunji’s sleeping over.

you: so why are u texting me?

JK: can’t i just miss you?

you: liaaaar. you don’t miss mee.

You stare at the last message, lips curled into a smirk even though your chest tightens with something you won’t name. Because it’s true.

Jungkook doesn’t miss you. He never has. Not in the way you need to be missed. Not in the daylight, not when the world is watching. Only in the dark, only when it’s quiet and no one’s looking. Just like you don’t miss him.

Not really.

Not ever.

JK: mmh, myb, but i miss that cute little throat

Your breath hitches. Instinctively, your eyes dart to Taehyung.

Still fast asleep.

His face is soft, turned toward your shoulder, mouth slightly open. The steady warmth of his breath fans your skin. He looks like everything that’s right in the world. Everything stable. Everything safe.

So why does your pulse quicken like this?

Why does your body react as if Jungkook’s hands are already on you, as if his voice is already whispering filth into your ear?

It shouldn’t be hot.

It shouldn’t be.

But it is.

The guilt crawling beneath your skin only adds fuel to the fire.

Your fingers tremble as you type.

you: really? what else do you miss?

You send it before you can stop yourself.

Before you can talk yourself out of it.

Taehyung shifts beside you, arm tightening around your waist, and you freeze for a second—heart caught between panic and something darker.

Something closer to thrill.

There’s a pause.

Long enough for anticipation to curl low in your stomach like smoke.

You can already picture him—lying in his bed, lights off, the pale blue glow of his phone screen painting shadows across that pretty face. His bottom lip caught between his teeth, that familiar furrow in his brow as he tries to come up with something clever. Something that’ll make your skin burn.

He always does this—crafts the perfect reply, like he’s pulling the strings and watching you fall apart from the safety of his room. Like he knows exactly what to say to make your walls crumble.

You bite the inside of your cheek, heart thudding painfully in your chest. Taehyung’s arm is still snug around your waist, his body still warm, still unaware. Still perfect.

But it’s not him you’re thinking about.

Not in this moment.

Not when your phone buzzes again.

JK: aha. miss the way u sound when i hit it from the back.

JK: miss how u shake when i bite down real soft so he wouldn’t notice.

JK: miss that dumb look in ur eyes when u know u shouldn’t want it but beg anyway.

Your mouth goes dry.

Shame rushes in quick and hot, but it doesn’t stop the way your thighs clench beneath the blanket. Doesn’t stop the heat blooming in your chest like a fire you’re too afraid to put out.

You should put the phone down.

You should.

But instead, you type with shaking fingers:

you: you’re such an asshole.

you: but what if i wanna beg now?

A reckless message. Sent before you can overthink it.

And just like that, the silence of the room shifts—heavier now. Thicker with something filthy. Dangerous.

He doesn’t reply right away.

And for a fleeting second, dread slips beneath your skin like ice. Your heart stutters.

What if she woke up?

What if you both got caught?

Your fingers tighten around the phone, breath held hostage in your lungs.

Ping.

Two notifications.

But not texts.

Photos.

Your pulse skyrockets as you swipe them open.

The first image is a little blurry, but you don’t need perfect resolution to know what you’re looking at.

Blanket draped low, his tattooed arm stretched across it, boxers tenting high with the unmistakable shape of his cock—hard and ready.

Your stomach twists. Fuck.

Even through the layers of cotton, it makes your mouth water. The idea that he’s this worked up over a few late-night texts? That his body responds to you like instinct, like addiction?

It shouldn’t thrill you this much.

But it does.

You swipe to the next photo—and suddenly, it’s not just lust that grips you.

It’s something darker.

Colder.

Eunji.

Sleeping on her stomach, hand curled beneath her pillow. Her face is turned away from the camera, peaceful. Innocent. Her long black hair spills across the pillow like silk—so shiny, so well-kept, you might’ve asked her about her routine if you weren’t fucking her boyfriend.

Your throat tightens.

She’s right there. Within arm’s reach of him. Of this.

And still, his attention is on you.

Still, you’re the one making him hard.

Taehyung stirs beside you in his sleep, lips brushing your shoulder, completely unaware. Completely devoted.

You blink, breath shaky, phone clutched in your hand like a loaded gun.

You should be disgusted.

You should feel something.

Shame. Guilt. Rage.

But all you feel is heat pooling between your legs—and that awful, aching need that only Jungkook seems to know how to pull from you.

And best of all?

The power.

The power of knowing you’re the one they both need.

you: bruuuuh, why’d u have to send me a pic of her

JK: because you’re teasing too much bby and i can’t do anything about it

you: ugh you’re so disgusting kook

JK: c’mon, don’t pretend you don’t love making me this hard when she’s here

You stare at the screen, thumb hovering, breath stuck in your throat.

He got you.

Again.

It’s not even about the sex anymore—it’s about the way Jungkook crawls inside your head and flips every switch you swore no one else could reach.

He knows.

Knows how your body reacts to filthy words whispered like secrets.

Knows which buttons to press to make you unravel with just a few taps of a keyboard.

But more than that—he knows your mind.

Knows how you crave what’s forbidden.

How your appetite is carved from hunger for things you can’t have.

How the moment something is off-limits, it becomes irresistible.

How the line between guilt and arousal blurs the second he sends you proof that he’s hard—while the girl who trusts him sleeps inches away.

And worst of all, he knows you won’t stop.

He knows you’ll let him get away with it.

Knows that the shame is half the high.

That this game you play—the one with no winners—is the only thing that really makes you feel anything anymore.

You clench your thighs together beneath Taehyung’s sheets, the warmth of his body wrapped around yours like a lifeline. And yet, you’re not even here.

Your body’s here.

But your mind?

Your need?

Your guilt and desire and the ugliest parts of you?

They’re with Jungkook.

JK: u there?

JK: or is taehyung waking up?

JK: should i stop texting, baby?

Your jaw tightens.

you: shut up, kook.

you: you’re insane.

you: she’s literally RIGHT THERE.

you: you’re actually disgusting.

JK: yeah? but you’re wet, aren’t you?

JK: don’t lie, baby.

JK: you love this shit.

JK: love that i’m hard for you while she’s snoring in my bed.

JK: love knowing she has no idea.

JK: love knowing taehyung’s clueless too.

Your hands tremble just slightly, phone screen glowing like it’s daring you to throw it across the room. You don’t.

you: i hate you.

JK: no, you don’t.

JK: you hate that i know you.

JK: hate that i get to see this part of you no one else does.

JK: hate that it turns you on this much.

You don’t respond. You can’t. Not yet.

But he doesn’t need your words to keep going.

JK: i bet you’re squeezing your thighs right now, aren’t you?

JK: laying there next to your sweet little boyfriend, thinking about my cock.

JK: thinking about my mouth.

JK: thinking about how fast i’d make you cum if you were here instead.

JK: or better yet... if i was there.

Your heart slams into your ribs.

you: kook.

you: stop.

you: seriously.

JK: say the word, and i will.

JK: but we both know you won’t.

JK: you like this too much, baby.

Your lips part. The room is quiet—too quiet—except for the sound of Taehyung’s steady breathing against your neck.

Your fingers move before your mind can catch up.

you: tell me what you’d do if you were here.

There’s a pause. A long one. Long enough to make your heart thud louder in your ears.

JK: i’d pull those panties to the side and stuff your mouth so you can’t make a sound

JK: i wouldn’t care about taehyung. he wouldn’t even wake up. he’d just keep dreaming while i fuck you slow and deep right next to him

JK: you’d cum with your back arched into me and my hand on your throat to keep you quiet

Your breath hitches. You feel the wetness between your thighs, undeniable now.

The scenario is absurd, unrealistic, impossible, yet the mere thought of Jungkook fucking you right next to your sleeping boyfriend makes the irational part of you ponder of calling him over.

Key word: irrational.

you: you’re horrible.

JK: and you love it.

JK: you love knowing i want to ruin you while he holds you like you’re some kind of good girl.

JK: you’re not.

You close your eyes, inhale the sweet scent of Taehyung’s skin—and then, traitorously, exhale Jungkook’s name in your mind.

you: what would you do after?

JK: i’d stay inside you.

JK: soft. slow. still.

JK: just so you’ll remember who really owns you every time he touches you.

Your whole body clenches.

You shouldn’t reply.

But of course, you do.

you: i want you so bad it hurtsssss

JK: then come over

JK: i’ll fuck you while you’re wearing his shirt

you: haah, you wish. she’s still there kook.

JK: so what? i’ll wake her up, tell her i have an emergency with friends or something, make sum up

you: you wish jungkook.

JK: you’re soooo mean

You stare at the screen. Your fingers hover for a second before you start typing again, heart pounding.

you: you want to know what i’d do if i was there?

JK: fuck yes.

JK: tell me.

You smile, biting your lip, eyes glinting with mischief as you start typing slow.

you: i wouldn’t touch you right away.

you: i’d crawl into your bed real slow, straddle your lap, let your hands wander while mine just sit on your chest.

you: tease you. rub against you just enough to get you begging.

you: but i wouldn’t let you take my clothes off.

JK: fuck.

JK: keep going.

you: i’d grind down on you until you’re so hard it hurts. kiss you just to shut you up.

you: make you watch me take off my shirt. real slow. nothing else.

you: then i’d lean in and whisper how good i’d make you feel—if you kept your hands to yourself.

JK: you’re evil.

JK: i’m literally throbbing rn.

you: i’m not done.

you: i’d slide down between your legs, kiss up your thighs, leave scratches on them just because i can.

you: and then i’d suck your cock so slow you’d lose your damn mind.

you: make you beg to cum.

you: but you don’t get to, not until i say so.

you: i’d let you fuck my mouth. deep. wet. sloppy.

you: and right when you’re close? i’d stop.

you: tell you to fuck me instead.

There’s a pause.

Then—

JK: baby. i’m gonna cum in my boxers.

JK: you’re unreal.

JK: comeee here.

you: you wish.

you: you don’t deserve me tonight.

JK: you’re so fucked up.

JK: and i love it.

you: you love it when i edge you, don’t you?

you: leave you aching and leaking for me.

you: bet you’d cum the second i sit on your lap.

JK: fuck. stop.

JK: you’re gonna make me ruin these boxers.

JK: get your ass over here.

you: why? so you can throw her out just to rail me. or so you can fuck me while she’s sleeping in the next room?

you: so i have to keep quiet with your hand over my mouth?

JK: you love that shit, don’t you?

JK: you biting my hand to keep from screaming is the hottest shit ever.

JK: you shake when you cum. did you know that?

JK: so fucking pretty.

you: you think i don’t know?

you: you only cum that hard for me.

you: not her.

you: never her.

You glance over your shoulder. Taehyung is still knocked out. Thank God.

you: he’s still asleep.

you: you should be fucking me right now.

you: you should be filling me up in his bed.

JK: you’d love that, wouldn’t you?

JK: i’d cum inside you so deep you’d leak into his sheets.

JK: he’d never know he’s holding you while you’re full of me.

JK: you’re so mine it’s pathetic.

you: i’d let you fuck me slow. real slow.

you: make you watch my face while i whisper his name just to fuck with you.

you: and you’d still moan like a bitch.

JK: jesus fucking christ.

JK: you want me to beg? fine. i’m begging.

JK: tell me what you’re wearing.

You smirk, fingers sliding beneath the waistband of your panties just enough to make yourself gasp softly.

you: just his t-shirt.

you: nothing underneath.

you: it still smells like him.

you: but i’m touching myself to you.

JK: i’m gonna lose my fucking mind.

JK: show me.

Your fingers move before you can think. You slowly peel the covers off your legs, making sure not to wake your boyfriend. The room is dim, but there’s just enough light from the window to catch your skin in that soft glow.

You bite your lip and slide your hand down the front of your body, lifting the hem of Taehyung’s shirt just enough. Camera up. Angle just right. The top of your thighs, the curve of your stomach, your fingers just brushing beneath the shirt, teasing the promise of what’s underneath.

Click.

You send it.

you: this enough for now?

you: you don’t even get to see everything. not tonight.

Another picture follows, this one riskier—your fingers between your thighs now, lips parted slightly in the mirror, shirt still on but clearly, there’s nothing beneath.

Click. Sent.

JK: holy. fuck.

JK: you’re gonna make me cum just from this.

JK: i want you on your knees the second i see you.

you: you’ll be lucky if i even let you touch me.

you: maybe i’ll just sit on your face and make you beg for it.

JK: say less.

JK: i’ll let you ride me until i forget my own name.

JK: just say the word.

You’re beyond turned on right now. Your body feels like it’s on fire, your thoughts tangled in need and desire. Every inch of you is aching for him, and you can practically feel your body calling out to Jungkook. Your pussy clenches around nothing, a constant reminder of how badly you want him.

For a moment, you consider sneaking into the bathroom, texting him some more, maybe even making yourself cum with your fingers. But then the air shifts.

Taehyung stirs in his sleep, and your heart sinks like a stone in your chest. Panic rushes through you, cold and sharp, as his voice breaks the silence.

“Love, what are you doing there?”

Your body freezes, a deer caught in headlights, your breath catching in your throat. You quickly shut your phone, lowering the volume to make sure he doesn’t hear Jungkook’s incoming texts.

“Oh, nothing,” you manage to say, your voice sounding steadier than you feel. “Just going to the bathroom.”

He hums in response, shifting his body to turn the other way. “Just turn the hallway lights off when you get back, and hurry up. You know I can’t sleep without you.”

Your heart races, but you manage to whisper, “Okay, love. Wait for me.”

You bolt out of the room, the urgency in your movements as sharp as the guilt gnawing at you. The second you’re in the bathroom, you lock the door behind you. You sit down on the closed toilet, your body trembling, your breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps.

You pull your phone back out, your fingers shaky as you unlock it. A string of messages from Jungkook lights up the screen, his words practically searing into you.

JK: ugh, i want to fuck you so bad

JK: bby?

JK: wya?

JK: is he up or sum?

JK: are you okay?

JK: did he catch you?

You take a deep breath, your chest tightening as you type your response, fingers trembling.

you: he woke up for a sec, i'm in the bathroom rn

you: he’s waiting for me

The next message hits you like a punch in the gut.

JK: oh shit

JK: we should probably stop for tonight

You roll your eyes, frustration bubbling up inside you. No shit, Sherlock. Of course, you should stop for tonight. Why does he always have to act like you’re stupid?

you: yea, i gotta go.

The reply is almost immediate, and you can hear the tension in his words.

JK: okay

JK: wanna chill tmrw tho?

You pause, your mind racing. You should stop, but you want him. You always want him.

you: when?

Your fingers hover over the screen as you try to keep your composure.

JK: after your shift? maybe 10-11pm? you can sleep over.

You feel a flutter of anticipation in your stomach. The pull of temptation is too strong, and you can't resist.

you: sure.

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asxgard · 2 days ago

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Companionship | pt. 12

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x f!reader

Previous | Next

Summary: You and Michael have an honest conversation about your insecurities and expectations. The sexual tension comes to a head.

[ Series Masterlist ]

Note: this chapter was not as fleshed out in my outline as the others lol sorry it took so long! Thank you for all the likes, comments and reblogs💜💜

note to self: need to up the word count? add smut lol

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: age gap, mild angst, foul language, mild jealous!Robby, fluff, SMUT (MINORS DNI), afab!reader, fingering, p in v, light praise kink, pet names (sweetheart, honey, baby)

not beta read

In the dates that followed, a contentment settled. You felt like you would be able to forgive him for the harsh words he had hurled at you, and build the relationship based on mutual trust in time. You took it slow, usually going to restaurants or the museum, and he only ever kissed you goodnight, though he always lingered just enough to steal another.

Days bled into weeks, dates into quiet nights in. The holidays came and went, though you spent them separately. Michael worked several holiday shifts, while you spent time with friends and family. “Next year, we’ll spend them together.” and that was good enough.

Marsi kept pressing to meet him, which Erin would echo, and it became increasingly difficult to fend them off. You were enjoying your time with Michael, and did not want to rush anything. The feelings twisting around in your chest had other plans, however, tangling deeper with every day you spent together.

Michael paid for your utilities that month, as “a late holiday gift” and then paid for the CPA review course as “a graduation gift”. He then splurged and took you out to the fanciest restaurant in Pittsburgh, to celebrate.

It made you feel like you were taking advantage of him, but part of you also felt massive relief that those bills weren’t on your shoulders. It also stirred something in your stomach at being spoiled, something you had not quite experienced before.

“I appreciate it a lot, Mike, just…” You sighed, flipping the chicken in the pan.

He watched you expectantly, setting his wine glass onto the counter.

“That’s not why I’m here.”

He smiled gently, “I know that, trust me. I paid off my loans some years ago, so I understand how stressful it can be. If I can help, I want to.”

“Thank you.” You said softly, “Feels like something a boyfriend might do…”

“Aren’t I?”

You looked over at him in surprise, blinking a few times. “I knew we were exclusive, I just didn’t realize we had given it a name yet.”

He cupped her cheek, “Then, would you like to make this official and be my girlfriend?”

Your cheeks heated, and you grinned at him, looking at him through you eyelashes. This still felt slow, easy, but the title made you feel more secure. It felt like a breath of relief.

“I’d like that a lot, yeah.”

“Label or not, it’s you and me?”

“You and me.” You agreed. “But I like the label.”

He smiled, “Me too.”

He leaned down to capture your lips and you savored the kiss, tasting the wine on his tongue. He ran a thumb over your cheek before pulling away.

It was easy enough to guess how Marsi had tricked you into meeting Michael. An offhanded comment about going to a bar with Michael, and a coy, “have fun!”, and then there they were in the bar waiting for you.

You paused at the door, Michael nearly walking into the back of you.

His hand found your arm, “You alright?”

“Well fuck me.”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I’m going to say this in advance: I’m so sorry.”

“What?”

Erin approached first, “So you must be Michael.”

Michael’s eyes looked over to Erin, taking in her smirk and carefree expression, though her eyes were subtly assessing him. Marsi, next to her, was being less subtle.

“Michael, these are my friends, Erin and Marsi.” You introduced, looking up at Michael with an apologetic smile. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Erin grinned back at you.

Michael offered a careful smile, “Nice to meet you.”

Marsi hummed, while Erin clapped her hands together.

“So glad you’re here! Drink?” Erin grabbed your hand and pulled you to the bar.

Michael followed dutifully.

“What the hell, Erin?” You hissed lowly. “I mean, seriously?”

Erin smiled innocently, blinking her eyes at her, “What? We like this bar too, you know.”

You groaned, “You completely blindsided me. He deserved a warning.”

Marsi scoffed, “He’ll be just fine.”

You let out a long breath of air, and ordered a drink. Michael slid in beside you, ordering a beer.

You leaned in to Michael to whisper, “This was not my idea, I’m sorry.”

He smiled easily, “Don’t fret. I’m glad I’m able to meet some of your friends.”

“You don’t think it’s too soon?”

“Not at all, I’m your boyfriend. I expected to meet them soon, anyways. We can plan something with some of my…friends, if that makes you feel better.” He offered.

Butterflies filled your stomach, nerves rattling around your bloodstream, but you nodded. “Yeah, yes, please.”

He smiled.

—

Erin and Marsi were pleasant — though Marsi was not-so-subtly grilling him. Each question made you hide behind your hand, mouthing “I’m sorry” to him. He brushed it off and grabbed your hand.

With his hand on your lower back, he began to notice the eyes. It made him bristle, removing his hands from your skin. You noticed his shift in mood easily, raising a simple eyebrow to ask what your were likely thinking. He only offered a small smile to answer that he was fine.

He was not fine. It felt like the bubble around them had finally burst — letting in all the outside judgements that had been lingering the entire time. He tried not to care, but it made him self conscious. You were very clearly younger than him, even in the low lighting of the bar, and he could feel other men circling like sharks.

When you excused yourself to get another drink at the bar, Erin and Marsi departed to dance, and heat rose to his cheeks. He felt out of his depth, sipping his beer at the table they had secured, alone and yet, completely occupied by his racing mind.

Could he truly do this to you? Tie you to him and ruin your youth? He always tried to be a gentleman, but wasn’t the noble thing to do to let you go? His stomach churned, mind and heart battling it out.

He wanted you, in every way a man could want a woman, for as long as you would have him. The warm, fuzzy feeling swaying around his chest made a hard fight against the guilty, self deprecating thoughts.

They all screeched to a halt when a man approached you at the bar, hand on you back to whisper something to you. He watched, frozen to his chair, as you scrunched your nose at him, shifting out of his hold.

How could he blame the man? You were gorgeous. Stunning. Beautiful in mind and body. Smart, so incredibly smart, with a laugh that eased all the haunting feelings in his chest.

Your eyes meeting his across the bar and he was out of his seat, making his way over to you. Your eyes softened when he approached, the man’s back still facing him.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Michael said, getting his attention.

The man only glanced sideways at Michael, “Get lost, old man. Trying to have a conversation here.”

“That’s my boyfriend, asshole.” You snapped before Michael could even open his mouth again.

Michael smirked, looking back at the man. His voice lowered closer to something dangerous, “She likes her space, so disrespectfully, you get lost.”

The man raised a questioning eyebrow at you, disbelief flashing across his features, before he must’ve decided it wasn’t worth it. Michael slid closer to you, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Was that jealousy?” You asked with a playful eyebrow raise, sipping your drink. “Can’t say I hated it — it was kinda hot — but, still. I could’ve handled that. I’ve chosen you. Random men aren’t going to be able to change that.”

“Kinda hot?” He raised a teasing eyebrow.

You chuckled, “Of course that's what you got out of what I said.”

“No, no, I heard you. Just wanna revisit that bit.”

You rolled your eyes playfully.

He pulled you close and kissed the top of your head. “Just want everyone here to know you’re mine. Even if they judge us.”

You flustered, and your mouth opened and closed several times. He noted how those words made you fluster, and tucked it away for another day.

“I want you, Mike. I know people are gonna look at us, and yeah, I don’t love that. But I can’t let that stop me from being happy, you know? You make me happy.”

He blinked, searching your eyes, “They’re never going to stop.”

“You said you wanted everyone to know I was yours.” You swallowed, eyes flicking between his. “I want everyone to know you’re mine, too.”

He smiled, kissing your lips in more than just a fleeting meeting of mouths. It was passionate, and made the blood rush down.

“So we might as well get used to it, or ignore it.” You breathed against his lips. “I want to be here, with you. No one else.”

“You and me against the world, then?”

“You and me.” You confirmed.

—

Over dinner one night, you were twisting the pasta on your fork, your focus was clearly elsewhere.

“You okay?”

You looked back up at him and smiled, “I forgive you. Thank you for giving me the time to.”

He blinked, swallowing his food. He reached across the table and grabbed your hand.

“Thank you.”

Sometime after dinner on the quiet night in, you found your way to Michael’s lap, exploring further than you had gone together. You straddled him, hands on each side of his face, kissing him deeply while his hands explored the skin around your waist. When your lips parted, Michael’s pupils had blown wide, black devouring the brown of his iris. He was taking deep breaths, watching you intently.

You moved your lips to kiss down his neck and his hips jerked up just enough to elicit a whine from your mouth.

Your eyes found each other again, testing, teasing, tentative. Your fingers fiddled with the gold chain near the back of his neck, the other going to his chest where his shirt separated you.

“We can call it here—”

“Do you want to?” You asked, eyes trying to read his expression.

“No.” It sounded mildly strangled. “But we can, if you’re not comfortable. I want to do this right.”

“Michael, I want you. This feels right.”

His eyes darkened, hands tightening around your hips. His lips were back on yours, greedy, hungry, and your tongue darted into his mouth. You swallowed his moan, hips moving in search of friction.

Leaning forward slightly, you wrapped your arms around his neck as he stood up. You squealed, wrapping your legs around his hips to hold onto him. He had his hands on the tops of your thighs, keeping you from falling, as he made the journey to his room.

“Michael—!” was more surprise than protest.

He grinned against your mouth, moving into his bedroom. You would have taken the room in, if it weren’t for Michael distracting you completely. He leaned down to plop you onto the bed, and you instinctively reached back up for him.

Michael was looking down at you with a smile that reached his eyes, soft and serene. He kissed you lightly, and you scooted back on the bed, pulling him with you. He settled between your legs, breath hot against your neck, kissing down the column of your throat and making you whine again.

Your hips moved up to gain some friction, making him suck on the skin at the base of your throat at the juncture of your collarbone. You gripped the hair at the back of his neck, trying to keep hold of your senses.

Michael moved to sit back on his haunches, removing his shirt and unbuttoning his jeans. A rush of excitement flooded your chest, and you sat up enough to remove your blouse. With your bra, Michael pulled off your pants until they each were only left in your underwear.

When he got back down to kiss you, the heat of him between your legs made your head grow hazy, consumed with him him him. The smell of vanilla and sandalwood filling your nose, the taste of him on your tongue and his large, warm hands exploring your body.

His hand gripped your thigh and squeezed your flesh, and with his tongue back in your mouth, the rest of the world fell away.

Michael kissed over your shoulder, one hand slipping between you until it met your panties.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes.” You choked out, his fingers slipping underneath the fabric to meet the wet heat.

He gathered a bit of your slick before rubbing soft circles on your clit, making your jolt, a moan escaping. He kissed back up your throat and across your jaw, beard tickling your skin. His fingers moved in a steady motion and heat pooled low.

“Want to feel you.” You mustered, grabbing at his biceps, thoughts going feral at the feel of them flexing beneath your hold.

“I’m in no rush tonight, sweetheart. Let me take care of you.”

When one of his fingers slipped inside, you lost the meaning of patience, eyes screwed tight. He curled it expertly upwards, rubbing against that delicious spot inside you, making you mewl. His thumb kept its pace on your clit.

“Michael.” You ground out, trying to remember to breathe. “That feels so good.”

He hummed against your throat, kissing your skin. He added another finger, and heat built up, licking up your abdomen. You felt that coil tighten, like a rubber band being pulled taut.

“Please.” You begged, panting slightly, one hand still on his bicep, while the other gripped tightly to his shoulder.

“I’ve got you, come on.” His lips met yours.

You moaned when he added a little pressure to his thumb, that burning ecstasy just within reach. Trying to breathe, it was that all consuming feeling of him everywhere that kept you tethered. Your eyes met, and your orgasm came swiftly, the rubber band snapping. You gripped him tightly, squeezing your hands on his shoulders as several lewd moans left your mouth.

“So good, sweetheart.” He kissed your cheek, not letting up.

It quickly became over sensitive, and you reached down to grab his wrist to stop him.

“Fuck.” You let out with a smile, followed by a whine when he removed his fingers.

His fingers glistened and he held your gaze as he stuck them into his mouth, sucking on them. You felt your pupils dilate, a pulse starting again between your thighs as the desire for him heightened again. You had such an urge to get your mouth on him.

“Taste so good, sweetheart — can’t wait to get my mouth on you.”

Your hum was dangerously close to a whine, “Need you now. Please.”

“Are you sure? We don’t have to.”

“Michael. Do you want me to beg for it?” You asked, hands on either side of his face, fingers on the back of his head in his hair.

A sly smirk grew on his lips, “It could be arranged.”

You groaned, throwing your head back on the pillow, making him chuckle lightly.

“Maybe another time, then.” He said, kissing up your torso, stopping to pay attention to your nipples.

He took a peaked nipple into his mouth and your fingers found his hair, a whimper escaping. His tongue rolled over the bud, before sucking hard and moving to give the other his attention. His hand moved to the one he had just left, rolling it between his fingers. It sent sparks straight to your core, walls clenching around nothing. A few breathless moans left your mouth, lips parted as your eyes closed, relishing in his attentions.

Need pulsed through your system, throbbing with want and driving you mad. Red tinted lust clouded your mind, hot and heavy, driven by his skilled fingers and hot mouth.

“I need your cock, Mike…fuck—please.”

He groaned against you, adjusting his hips and you eyes fluttered at the weight of him. His eyes met yours and you could see he was torn between worshipping you and taking his time to unravel you again slowly, and fully just submitting to the desire.

It seemed to be a conundrum you were both stuck between: wanting to savor the moment and throwing patience out the window. Though you had abandoned patience as soon as he got his hands on you, but you also knew you did not want to rush something you had been thinking about for ages.

Making the decision, you moved one hand to the band of his boxers, slipping underneath and a gasp stuck in your throat when you wrapped your hand around his length. He stilled and savored your hand on him, his eyes closing.

You pumped a few times, and Michael shifted to pull his boxers completely off, revealing his hardened length to you. Your eyes nearly rolled back into your head at the sight of it — big enough to elicit excitement and not fear, girthy without being too much, a nest of brown curls at the base. Your thoughts spiraled, pussy clenching again around nothing.

Reaching for the nightstand, Michael pulled out a condom, and put it on quickly, without fanfare. Once it was rolled to the base of him, he slotted himself between your spread legs, kissing your jaw and cheeks before pecking a few to your lips.

You gripped his shoulders when he ran the tip through your folds, stopping to add a bit of pressure to your clit. He ran the bottom of his cock over your clit until tears gathered at the corner of your eyes — half from overstimulation, half desperation.

He lined himself up with your entrance, pushing in the blunt head of his cock in slowly. You sucked in a shallow breath, tightening your grip on him. A groan echoed low in his throat, eyes closed, forehead resting on yours as he drove in deeper. He let out a long breath, grabbed one of your thighs and pulled it up to his hip. He then steadied himself with both forearms at either side of her head, hips fully meeting yours.

The kiss he captured was deeply passionate, and you wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him to you. You reveled in his weight on you, and the stretch of him between your legs. Devine and adding to the aching heat in your core. You wrapped your legs fully around him, criss-crossing your feet at the small of his back, which gained a tiny moan from Michael.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you feel so good, sweetheart.” He said, burying his face in your neck, still holding still.

Your back arched slightly at the praise, clenching around him, a curse slipping past your lips. “Oh my—Mike.”

“Don’t—” he choked, “—fuck, you keep doing that and I’m not going to last.”

“Can’t help it—feels so good.” You whispered, trying to keep your from clenching again at the sound of his husky undertones.

“I know, honey, I know.”

He took a long moment without moving, instead looking into your eyes with an intimacy that spread warmth down your spine and made your heart race.

When he started moving, it was slow, deliberate, each thrust a vow, a phrase they had not yet been said. Moving out just enough before moving back in at a languid pace, the long drag of his hips filled your lower belly with heat. It felt like words had been stolen from your lips, staring wide-eyed up at him and treasuring the way his eyes held steady, filled with equal parts adoration and desire.

Reaching between them again, his thumb met your clit and he rubbed a slow circle. Searing heat flooded your bloodstream, and you throbbed around him. You panted out soft breaths of air, swallowing thickly before leaning up to kiss his lips.

The rhythm grew steady, and each drag of his hips felt more lovely than the last. Filling so full of him, all of your senses clouded with his smell, his taste, his touch, and it made everything more delicious, more divine, until he was every thought in your head.

The coil started tightening again, and you moaned. You thought you might never have your fill of him. With each snap of his hips, you then knew with certainty that you would never get enough. He brushed the spongy spot inside you that had you tensing, curling your toes, sinful noises rolling off your tongue without permission.

The familiar euphoria started expanding low in your belly, your eyes hooded with pleasure that was nearly overwhelming. The perfect feeling of him, being so stuffed full — there were no words for it.

"You're mine. Say it." He whispered huskily, eyes on yours.

The words traveled right to your core. "Yours, Michael. All yours."

The kiss he met your lips with was greedy, like he was devouring the words, roughly taking in your bottom lip. Hands in his hair, you gave it all to him.

Michael’s face scrunched up as pleasure must have been spreading through his system, though his kisses were still slow and controlled.

Feeling the edge of your release, you felt like you never wanted it to end, even at the cusp of your second orgasm. You wanted to savor it. Though with each thrust in and out, you fell into a desperation to feel the crashing wave of heat, clinging to him.

It felt overly indulgent to approach your second climax of the night, and you knew he was going to spoil you in every way he could.

“Mike—ohmygod—I’m—” you cried out, gripping his shoulders like your life depended on it.

“That’s it—I can feel that you’re close, sweetheart. I wanna feel it, give it to me, come on.” He encouraged, tone breathy in your ear.

He moved the hand from between them to intertwine their fingers beside your head, and replaced it with his other hand without missing a beat, not leaving you wanting for long. He added pressure with the pad of his thumb, and your thoughts stalled out. Just burning pleasure in your core, echoing outwards.

“Can feel you getting tight—fuck, sweetheart—come on my cock for me, come on.”

A high pitched whine left your lips, and everything tightened — your grip, your legs around his waist, your pussy clenching making him gasp and groan, your whole body tensing.

His low hiss of your name threw you over the edge, sending your hurtling into the white-hot heat that was all-consuming. The coil snapped and fire exploded through your system, all your resolve shattering. Your eyes screwed shut, pussy pulsing around him while he fucked you through it.

A mix of his name and incoherent moans came from your lips, scorching heat overcoming every nerve. It kept rolling as his hips kept moving and you sucked in a deep breath, as he whispered soft praises in your ear. You panted, trying to catch your breath — you felt like you were floating above your body, pleasure stinging every nerve until it slowly started ebbing away.

“Mike—oh!” Your back arched again, feeling his skin flush against your, as his cock continued to drive into you. “You feel so good, baby.”

“Yeah? Like being full of me?”

“Yes, yes, yes.” You chanted, each word matching with each thrust into your wet heat.

His new pace was faster, making stars dance behind your eyes, his grunts and groans making you unconsciously pulse around him. He moved his hand from between your legs to beside you, moving up just enough to stare down at you. Pleasure started contorting his face, your name on his tongue.

His forehead met yours, panting, each snap of his hips growing sloppy.

“Mmm love being so full of you, Mike. You feel so good.”

Michael kissed you, unfocused and messy, moaning into your mouth as his orgasm overcame him. His hips stuttered until they stopped, and the feeling pulled a final low moan from your lips.

He heaved a few breaths, your chest rising and falling in time with his. He met your eyes and smiled.

When he pulled out, it left you feeling empty, but you slipped to his side after he discarded the condom. He wrapped an arm around you, kissing your forehead. You traced tiny shapes along his chest, feeling so full of an emotion you did not yet want to name, but it thrummed just beneath the surface.

“I’m falling in love with you.” He said quietly, like it was a secret.

Your heart hammered against your ribs.

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes. “I’ve been falling for you, too.”

Michael’s face lit up and he leaned down to kiss you tenderly.

“You and me?”

“You and me.”

want to join any of my taglists? shoot me a message!

Companionship taglist: @queenslandlover-93 @clementine111002 @virgomillie @emily-b @kaygilles @lt-jakeseresin @imonmykneessir @kniselle @gabsgabsvaz @rosiepoise88 @calivia @holdonimwalkingmysnail @valhallavalkyrie9 @blahkateisdone @shadowhuntyi @fuckalrighty @elli3williams @yournerdmodziata @i-know-i-can @dickheadturner @dcgoddess @pittobsessed @glamorizethechaos @blueb33ry-cat @whatdoesntkillyoumakesyoustrange @burningpenguinwitch @evienorville @equallyshaw @heyysolsister @justrandomthougt @babygirlagenda @lauracantsleep @rogersbarnesxx

Dr. Robby taglist: @cherriready @seeyalaterinnovator @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @bxxbxy @18lkpeters @flyinglama @hagarsays @mayabbot @anakingreys @happyfox43 @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind @sarah-the-bird-nerd @girl-obsessed-with-things @laurenkate79 @woodxtock @rosie-posie08

(50 tags have been reached with the combo of all three taglists, so unfortunately some of Dr. Robby & all of The Pitt taglist for this series will be added in a reblog right after this is posted - I’m sorry if this is an inconvenience!)

Gimme that man

Didn’t realize how expensive it was to be a CPA after graduating with your masters lol, Robby you’re a real one

#the pitt #michael robinavitch #dr robby #michael robinavitch x reader #dr robby x reader #the pitt x reader #michael robinavitch x female reader #asxgard writes #companionship series

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cavillscurls · 1 year ago

Text

tender loving care

husband!joel miller x pregnant!reader

Pregnancy symptoms are tough. Your husband finds ways to make them a bit more bearable.

warnings/tags: MDNI. established relationship. husband!joel. pregnant!reader. no outbreak. non-canon. depictions of discomfort/pain/complications due to pregnancy. brief mentioning of difficulty conceiving. fluff. sweet, domestic joel. use of “daddy,” but not in the kinky way. foul language. pet names. smut. dirty talk. boob massage! teasing. nipple play. some grinding. nipple orgasm. mastubation (m). cum play. joel loves readers stomach. pregnancy kink by default. reader is physically nondescript…except for being pregnant (duh), and some physical pregnancy symptoms. joel miller fucking loves his wife. word count: 5k

a/n: i’ve never been pregnant in my life so excuse any inaccuracies bc there will be some!! big thanks to @kiwisbell for encouraging me to write this and coming up with the title bc i’m ass at that. also fun little game: take a shot every time you read ‘nipples,’ sorry bout it.

Eight months flew by in the blink of an eye.

It felt like only yesterday your entire world had changed over two, little pink lines. You didn’t think you could ever forget the all-encompassing joy you experienced that day; tear-filled eyes and tight embraces shared with the man you loved. Years of trying dwindled to a single, perfect moment. Because after some time, you had begun to lose hope. It didn’t always happen for people; maybe, it just wasn’t meant to happen for you.

“We ain’t gonna stop tryin’, you hear me? Not gonna give up that easily.”

He had been your rock through the entire process. The only tangible thing keeping you grounded while the earth felt as though it was slipping right from under your feet. Your anchor.

Your husband.

Your Joel.

And in the following months, he was no less attentive and devoted. He read every book, took you to every class and doctor’s appointment, and dealt with every absurd craving you requested. He handled the emotional highs and lows with ease, always a beacon of stability and comfort, even when the reality of your situation began to weigh on you. He praised your rapidly changing body, especially on the days you felt less than comfortable or beautiful in it. All the while continuing to work, provide for you and the life you were growing as if it were the most innate thing in the world.

His willingness to attend to you and your growing family became increasingly crucial during the final month of your pregnancy. Your obstetrician had strongly recommended bed rest due to high blood pressure levels, a complication she assured you could be managed with plenty of rest, water, and some dietary adjustments. You tried adamantly to not let the fear consume you, even with years of working towards your miracle in tow. So while Joel worked, and grocery shopped, and tended to the house and garden, and cooked, and cleaned, you spent most of your days in bed or on the couch trying not to go absolutely insane.

As if you didn’t already feel useless in your life and marriage. As if you weren’t already spending every waking moment worrying about the chance of losing your baby over something entirely out of your control. Breathing exercises. Meditation. Warm baths. You followed every method to reduce stress as it was, doctor’s quote, imperative to you and the health of your baby.

But some days were harder than others. And some symptoms weren’t as easy to bear.

One evening, you found yourself on the couch clicking through the television channels after one of your dozen labor and delivery books had terrified you to the point of needing a break. A palate cleanser. Something to take your mind off the way your body ached in seemingly every crack and crevice, and the anxiety that resided in the pit of your stomach over your approaching due date.

It was not for lack of excitement, of course. You couldn’t wait to hold your baby in your arms. To begin this new chapter of life with the two people you undoubtedly loved most in the world. But there was fear in the unknown; you had never given birth before, and books and educational videos could only prepare you to a certain extent. You often doubted yourself, your body, and what it was capable of. How much you could really endure.

No, you scolded yourself. Now is not the time to spiral.

You carefully propped your swollen feet up on the coffee table in front of you, pulling the wool blanket your mother had knitted for you as a baby shower gift over your legs. Joel was working late, which meant you were left to your own erratic devices. You settled the TV on the Hallmark channel; perhaps a rookie mistake given your emotional state, but a welcomed distraction from the way every muscle in your body seemed to throb upon any given movement. You tried to situate yourself in a single position, but found the task nearly impossible, leaving you to squirm mere centimeters every which way trying to find the perfect spot on the cushions. Either your back was sore, or your bladder was suffocated. Your neck was craned, or your legs were extending too far to reach the table comfortably.

You let out an exasperated groan, sinking back into the cushions defeatedly, succumbing to the discomfort. Your eyes darted down to your belly, a bit of stretched skin protruding out between the hem of Joel’s t-shirt you wore and the blanket. You settled your hands on either side of your stomach.

“Not even here yet, and already giving me a run for my money, aren’t you?” you asked. Not even a moment later, you felt a familiar churn in your gut, followed by bumps of tiny limbs against your hands. A smile lit up your face. You remembered how odd the sensation was when you felt it for the first time weeks prior; now, you looked forward to it.

“It’s okay,” you continued, giving your stomach a few soothing rubs, knowing soon enough, you would be directing all of your comfort to something much more delicate. “You know I forgive you.”

The sound of the door unlocking tore your focus. You didn’t trust yourself to move, somewhat satisfied in the position you were in. But you heard the familiar sound of boots being kicked off, followed by keys tossed into the bowl on the front table.

“Hello?” Joel called, the deep timbre of his rich drawl echoing through the foyer and into the living room.

“In here!” you yelled back, the sound of approaching footsteps following seconds later.

Joel rounded the couch, and when his tired eyes met yours, you watched the creases in the corners deepen when he smiled down at you. You beamed back at him, a sense of relief and security washing over you at the sight of your husband. Disheveled, graying curls. Gentle, brown eyes. Full, loving lips that you couldn’t wait a moment longer to kiss. He didn’t keep you in suspense long, merely taking a moment to breathe in the sight of you, before he lowered himself onto the couch beside you with a fatigued grunt. He slung one arm across your shoulders, the other hand coming up to gently cradle your jaw.

“Hi baby,” he said softly, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. You savored the feeling and the musky scent of him after a hard days work.

“Hi,” you whispered when he pulled back, nose still nudging against yours, while his thumb caressed circles over the apple of your cheek. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

“M’glad to be home,” he admitted, filling you with adoration as he so often did. He released your jaw then, trailing his fingers down to your swollen belly and tenderly running his hand over it. “And hello to my other baby,” he mused, leaning down to press a kiss just above your belly button. The sight alone could have made you cry if you hadn’t been so used to the practice as routine now. Seldom was there a time that he did not greet the both of you; still two separate entities to him, although you were wrapped up in one.

It was endearing, exciting to see him like this. You thought this was what made the pain, the discomfort, the waiting, all worthwhile. Even though it took far too long to reach your goal, and the finish line still looked to be miles away, Joel was a constant reward. Everything you could ask for in a man, in a partner.

“How you feelin’?” he asked, his face still lingering close to your belly.

But before you could even answer him, a sharp pang shot through your chest, straight into your breasts. This was your newest symptom, having snuck up on you in the last trimester. As if your boobs looking and feeling as though they could explode with how full they had gotten wasn’t enough. It was as if your body could hear your momentary thoughts of gratefulness and decided to taunt you.

“Sore,” you hissed, grinding your teeth together. “Everywhere.”

Joel tsked his tongue down at your stomach. “Now, you listen here little one,” he said, feigning sternness. “You know daddy loves you, but you gotta stop givin’ mama such a hard time.”

“Why do I feel like this is only the beginning?” you groaned, throwing your head back against the couch cushions.

Joel chuckled. “Well, if she’s anything like you, darlin’, she’s sure as hell gonna have an attitude.”

You immediately propped your head back up. “She?” you asked, raising your brows at him. You two had decided to wait until delivery to find out the sex of the baby, something small that made the anticipation all the more exciting.

He shrugged, a hint of embarrassment painting his cheeks pink as if he hadn’t meant to say the thought aloud. “S’just a hunch,” he mumbled, delicately rubbing his palm across the expanse of your belly again. “Be happy with anythin’, just… always picture a little girl.”

And for a moment, the ache that lingered in your chest swelled deep down, radiating from your heart. An adoring smile broke out on your face as you watched him, eyes already back on your belly, lips casually planting little kisses on exposed skin whenever he pleased. Delicate hands that touched you with greater affection than any person you had ever known.

God, you loved him. More than life itself. So much it hurt, wondering how you had ever become so lucky.

“You’re gonna be such a good daddy,” you told him softly, lifting a hand to the nape of his neck and soothing the skin there with your fingers. Joel hummed contentedly in response, seemingly too enamored with your stomach to shift focus. But it wasn’t long before you were startling him to attention, another unprompted sting through your breasts making you flinch.

“My God,” you groaned, reaching up to cup the underside of them, the pressure providing a momentary relief. This time, the pain lingered; a heaviness and fullness that bordered too tender to touch. Body in constant conflict with itself.

Joel’s head perked up from your abdomen, brows pulled in concern. “What is it?” he asked, searching your face before following the movement of your hands that began to gently knead over the front of your shirt.

“My boobs are fucking killing me,” you told him honestly, causing him to chuckle. Your husband was no stranger to your blunt mouth even before he got you pregnant. The vulgarity only increased upon your hormones fluctuating with the hour, but he never seemed to mind. You got the impression it may have even amused him.

“Feel better when you rub ‘em?” he asked.

You pouted at him, the feeling of defeat inescapable. “A little, yeah,” you said.

“Here, let me.”

You didn’t protest, allowing him to help your feet off the coffee table and remove the blanket from your legs so he could kneel on the floor before you. He wedged his torso between your thighs, the bump of your belly snug against his chest. His hands reached up to cover yours, dwarfing them in the way that never ceased to make you feel safe, protected. You slipped yours out from underneath, resting them on either side of your stomach as he took the whole of each breast into his hands. You exhaled deeply, letting your head fall back against the cushions as he began to gently massage the supple flesh.

“This too hard?” he asked after a moment of silence, save for your soft sighs and the hum of the TV still running in the background.

“No,” you breathed, basking in the reprieve of his touch. His care. His love. “No, it's perfect.” The vulnerable state of your body was compliant, trusting with every fiber of your being that he would take care of it, tend to it to the best of his ability.

You let your eyes close briefly, focusing on the careful attention he bathed you in. He alternated between broad strokes, painting the perimeter of each breast with firm pressure, and gentle kneading that had you humming in satisfaction. There was nothing quite like Joel’s hands; reliable, strong, putting you back together piece by piece no matter where they touched you. Always knowing how to touch you, taking their time to discover the uncharted terrain and what made it blossom, what made you tick. You thought that must have been the case when his fingers went rogue, thumbs carelessly strumming over your sensitive nipples.

You gasped at the unexpected sensation, electricity prickling your skin. You lifted your head, peering down at Joel with parted lips and wide eyes. He was already looking up at you, a slight arch to his brow while he assessed the sudden reaction. With no protest to be found, he executed the motion again, this time with a bit more pressure.

The contact shot straight to your core, eliciting a small whine as your nipples grew taut below his thumbs. Swollen, aching, and unbearably sensitive– to anything other than your husband's touch, it seemed. A knowing grin spread over Joel’s cheeks.

“That feel good, darlin’?” he questioned, the teasing drop to his tone just as adequate in rousing you as his hands were. Now, every time he squeezed your breasts, he circled the pad of his fingers over each hardened bud, admiring the way your hips began to jerk forward in response. The spot between your legs began to ache just as adamantly as the rest of you, only now, you knew exactly the remedy.

“Joel,” you moaned softly after a few more tight, tantalizing flicks. Even through your t-shirt, the rough callouses on his thumbs gifted you with tiny jolts of pleasure, an invisible tremor radiating through your body, connecting his fingers to your cunt that began to clench with every stroke.

You saw the shift in his eyes; loving, doting husband so easily replaced by the hunger he had for pleasing you. Especially when he knew you needed to be satiated. Could sense the want that erupted effortlessly under his ministrations.

You two had stopped having sex around the seven-month mark, as engaging in the act became more of a nuisance than an enjoyable experience for you. Another irritating symptom. Joel didn’t mind stopping in the slightest. What he did mind, however, was the lack of physical attention he was able to give his wife. Something he prided himself in, providing you the pleasure he insisted you deserved.

He got creative, nonetheless. Spending hours between your thighs, lavishing you with his tongue. Putting his deliciously thick fingers to work. Even investing in a few toys, something you widely appreciated during both your time together and when he was away. He was enraptured by the way your body responded to him nowadays, sensitive and overly reactive to each and every touch. Taking the time to discover what worked and what didn’t.

And it appeared this occasion was to be no different.

Wordlessly, Joel’s hands abandoned you, and you made no effort to hide your huff of frustration at the loss. This only widened his grin, the little craters you adored showing up on his cheeks.

“So impatient,” he chastised, to which you rolled your eyes. You had half a mind to make some comment regarding your current physical state, and how it required no patience, but his hands were back on you before you had a chance. This time, fingers slipped under the hem of the t-shirt and guided it up and over your belly. You watched him carefully in anticipation.

“Arms up,” he said when the shirt bunched below your breasts. And who were you to deny such a request? Wasting no time in lifting your arms over you while he pulled your shirt over your head.

You weren’t wearing a bra — you gave up on those a long time ago — warm skin succumbing to the cool air, already tight nipples growing little goosebumps around the perimeter. You used to feel more self-conscious; stretch marks across your chest as it grew with the rest of you, areolas a shade or two darker than they once were, and certainly less perky. But you didn’t hold on to those ideas for long. Not when you had Joel. Ever loving, praising every inch of you no matter how drastically you changed. Such changes significantly unimportant and minuscule compared to the task of growing life inside of you.

He never failed to find ways to remind you of your beauty. Even if you couldn’t see it, providing you with a vivid picture of life through his eyes.

The next time he touched you, he was brushing the backs of his knuckles ever so slightly across your exposed nipples. Your hands dug into the cushions below you, sucking in a breath through clenched teeth. Little jolts of pleasure shot through each peak, hardly able to handle his teasing touch.

“And so sensitive,” he mused, taking another pass of his knuckles over you. Rough skin caught on tender, pebbled flesh, finding a delicate rhythm; back and forth, not too fast, just enough to have you heaving for more.

The invisible string running down your midline grew tighter until he was switching tactics, turning over his hands to take each nipple delicately between his thumb and pointer finger, tweaking them over and over again. Not too fast, or too hard, just right.

You were starting to whine, hips jerking forward nearly uncontrollably now. You felt your clit twitch below your sweatpants with every thrust, a stream of slick arousal pooling in your panties. Joel had always been a maestro in stimulating your body, but you couldn’t recall ever feeling this turned on by something so simple. A familiar heat that usually only arose when you were near the edge of control settled in your lower stomach.

“Oh, f-fuck,” you stammered as you watched him lean forward, resting his chin atop your belly, and guiding one of your breasts towards his hot mouth. He never broke eye contact as his lips parted, wrapping around the awaiting nipple, already hard and raw, and gingerly sucking between his teeth. His tongue began to lap lazily over the stiff bud, his free hand still preoccupied with the other— pinching, tweaking, and flicking any which way that set your body alight.

“Like that?” he muttered into your skin, a momentary cessation just to catch his breath before he was diving back in, repeating the torment to the other side.

You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip, nodding. “Mhm,” you breathed, unable to find the right words to tell him just how much you liked it. Perhaps even a bit embarrassed to admit it.

Your hands abandoned the cushions, finding his head and weaving your fingers through the graying curls. Keeping him close, right where you needed him. The friction between your body intensified once you felt the unmistakable outline of his erection between your thighs; this lewd display, hardly even having to lift a finger while your husband devoted himself to pleasing you, turned him on. Made him ache, too. The idea alone could have driven you over the edge.

Then, he was using both generous hands to push your breasts together, leaving little space between them to swivel his tongue swiftly from each peak to the other. His hooded eyes peered up at you, tongue out, drool dripping down his chin and onto your skin, appearing like a goddamn beast in heat. Desperate for his fix.

“God, Joel,” you whined again, finding that his name was one of the only words you could muster. Your knuckles grew stiff, clutching onto his hair with a new ferocity as your pelvis began to chase the length in his jeans. The subtle grinding of your clothed cunt against him accelerated the thrilling build-up, the dull warmth in your lower tummy growing into a wildfire that descended through your core and trembling thighs.

“Christ, you’re fuckin’ perfect,” he growled, words muffled as he refused to detach his lips from your nipples. He must have noticed the way your eyes began to roll back into your skull, the pathetic way you clung onto him, even rolling your chest to the rhythm of his tongue. “You gonna come for me, baby? Gonna come just from me playin’ with these pretty tits, huh?”

It was all too much, too overwhelming, overstimulating. Your body didn’t know where to bend nor break, having no choice but to give in to the momentum Joel was effortlessly building. And when the thread snapped, you had the brief feeling of falling. Unsure if what you were feeling was what he asked of you, but it swarmed like warm water. Starting deep in your gut and spreading throughout your limbs that clenched around his hips and shoulders, body seizing and lips parting in a wail of euphoria.

Your untouched cunt clenched rapidly, leaking into your panties as you came, little bolts of lightening hot energy shot through your nipples still being lapped in Joel’s attention. Your shoulders hunched over his head, battered buds growing sore with overstimulation, but you wanted to ride the high. Feel every ounce of wave wash over you until your toes were curling and your tits were begging for a new type of relief.

“Ahh, oh my god. Yes. Okay, okay fuck,” you heaved, hands now working to pull him away. Joel unlatched his lips from your skin obediently, releasing the fullness of your breasts from his paws. His hands found the sides of your belly again, holding your quivering body still while he left a path of sweltering hot kisses along your sternum to your pulse point. He grazed his teeth over the spot, nibbling gently.

“Didn’t know you could do that,” he mused into your neck. You could practically hear the cheeky spread of his lips.

You chuckled, still breathless. “Yeah, neither did I. Fuck,” you shivered, jerking back every time his chest brushed up against yours.

Joel hummed pleasantly, pressing a final kiss below your ear before he retracted back from you. You saw him reach for the t-shirt discarded on the other side of the couch but grabbed at his wrist before he could pick it up.

“Wait,” you said, the cloud of lust still hanging over you. You weren’t ready for the moment to end. “I wanna do something for you.” You kept your voice light, meager. Somewhat petulant. Hoping that with enough sweetness, he wouldn’t be stubborn enough to deny you. It was not as if you couldn’t feel the way he still strained against his jeans.

Joel sighed, tilting his head at you with a knowing look. Equally scolding and sympathetic. “You know I don’t want ya movin’ around too much, the doctor said—”

“Who said I have to move?” you interrupted, arching a devious brow at him. He furrowed his in return. “Maybe… I just wanna watch.”

A mere breath, brief and dumbfounded while the suggestion sunk in. Then, a brazen grin crept its way onto his face, and he chuckled lowly in his chest. “Oh, baby,” Joel purred, shaking his head at you, unable to mute his delight at your proposition, and you wondered why you hadn’t thought of it sooner.

You loved this. Being so certain that, despite your current state, you could still excite your husband as diligently as he did you. That he craved you, needed you for any semblance of release.

Slowly, Joel lifted himself from his knees to his feet. Your neck craned back to accommodate the size of him standing before you, a practiced hand undoing his belt and unzipping the front of his jeans. You watched in sheer fascination, hazy eyes and a blissed-out little smile that you tried to bite back, as he shucked his jeans a few inches down his thighs. Your mouth watered at the sight of his gray boxers tented and stained through— all from the sight of you coming undone. His eyes never left you as he hooked his thumbs into the band of his boxers, pulling them down towards his jeans, his heated cock jumping free. The reddened tip hit just below his belly button; glistening, begging for attention.

You had half a mind to reach out, take his girth between your hands, and guide him into your mouth. You would find some way to accommodate yourself; a pillow under your knees, or perhaps on your side across his lap. But Joel wouldn’t have it. Wouldn’t put you through the effort just for his pleasure. You had tried, and failed, to argue with the logic time and time again.

Instead, you let him come to you. He hunched forward over you, one hand stabilizing himself on the arm of the couch, while the other came first to his lips, generously spitting into his palm, and then to grip himself at the base, sighing at the contact. His balls were already taut, cock throbbing. Your lips hung open in pure starvation, encouraging him to give himself over to you.

“Where do you want me?” he asked, voice low and hoarse as he began to slowly pump himself into his fist. You moaned a little sound of desperation at the picture. “Ain’t gonna last long, baby,” he warned you. “Where do you want me?”

You considered his question. The twinge of power excited you, and you found that the answer came easy; perhaps raunchy to the outside eye, but it felt nothing if not natural.

You dragged one of your hands up and over your swollen stomach; slowly, sultry as you circled it, batting devious eyes up at him. “Want you right here,” you told him, watching his shroud of control begin to falter. Written plainly, desperately across his face. The muscle in his jaw twitched where his teeth ground hard.

“Fuck,” he groaned, fist working over his silken shaft a bit faster now, intentional. His eyes were abysmal, blown black and desperately searching yours as a sheen layer of sweat covered his brow. “S’what you want, darlin’? Want me to paint that pretty fuckin’ belly of yours?”

You nodded at him eagerly, spurring him on. Inviting in and accepting the depravity, passion, and lust that clung to the atmosphere. You two wouldn’t be able to indulge in it as freely much longer.

You brought your own hands back to your breasts, squeezing over his diligent work, and moaning softly when your fingers pinched your battered nipples. An added touch. Joel’s hawk eyes followed every movement, devouring you. His lower abdomen clenched and his fist pumped himself ardently until he was cursing a string of fuckfuckfucks, squeezing his eyes shut, face contorted in euphoric bliss. He closed further in on you, close enough so that the tip of his cock nudged the bare skin above your belly button while he fulfilled his promise. Painting you in thick, white release, the primal sounds resonating in his chest while he came a sweet symphony to your ears.

Some splattered onto your boobs, even a bit on your chin. It was bizarre how long it had taken to get you pregnant considering the absolute mass of Joel’s orgasms. But the majority of his pearly cum dripped over your stomach, coating your skin in a familiar warmth; the same seed that graced you with the gift inside of you.

His ragged breaths began to slow, but you took it upon yourself to drag out your little show just a while longer. And he watched, just as greedy, while you ran your fingers over your stomach once more, collecting his spend onto the digits. You made sure he was looking you in the eyes when you brought your fingers to your mouth, pushing them knuckles deep and wrapping your lips around them. He stared at you with what you could only decipher as awestruck pride.

“You… are an extraordinary woman,” he said, breathless. The proudest grin plastered across his face— perhaps even a bit smug. You just shook your head laughing, smacking your lips as you pulled your fingers from your mouth and savored the salty taste of him. He leaned forward, capturing your damp lips in a lingering kiss before pressing his forehead to yours. “Stay here. Gonna run us a bath.” He gave you one last peck on your cheek before straightening up, tucking his softening cock back into his jeans, and heading towards the bathroom.

You watched him go before leaning back into the cushions, content and satisfied, albeit rather sticky and sweaty. Gone were the aches and pains of a day without Joel, replaced solely with his fondness for you. You stared up at the ceiling, breathing deeply, and attempting to picture what life would look like in just four short weeks. How the love you shared for each other could possibly grow any larger; it would fill every corner in the room, you thought. It would dominate every waking moment, and inhabit each rapturous dream. In the moments when you freed yourself of your worries and doubts, that was what you held onto. How simple yet substantial the things around you were:

A warm, sturdy house.

A fridge full of food.

Kind, helpful neighbors.

A family who would drop anything and everything to help you.

A husband who cherished you.

You couldn’t stop the errant tears, no matter how frivolous, from pooling at your waterline. You laughed quietly to yourself, lifting your head back up and using the backs of your hands to wipe them away as they cascaded down your cheeks. Happy tears. Excited tears. Nervous tears and tears for the sake of tears all wrapped into one. A beautiful, daunting array of emotions that you would tend to over and over if it meant having the life you were lucky enough to live with the man you were lucky enough to love.

Your eyes fell back to your stomach, the sight of it full and large, home and life-source to your baby, only fueling your fragility. But for a moment, as brief as it may have been, you couldn’t even remember a life before all of this.

“I can’t wait to meet you,” you whispered.

And you were surely looking forward to the life after.

follow @cavillscurlsupdates and turn on notifications to be notified when I update!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #the last of us #husband!joel #joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader

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fanfic-reading-challenge · 4 months ago

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The 2025 Fanfic Reading Challenge

Welcome to another year of the Fanfic Reading Challenge (FRC)!

I won't bore you with the history of the challenge, this year, but I will welcome you to check out past posts that do explain some of it, as well as include a brief overview of what, exactly, this challenge is, though it does change year to year. (Essentially you read fics to complete goals and win bragging points and an artsy badge.)

This year is especially different, as I had the extreme pleasure of having @noxsoulmate as a partner in crime in keeping me hostage on track to completing this year's FRC. Another valued member of the mod team is @jandjsalmon and speaks for all of us if you need questions answered!

As for the challenge....

This is, indeed, a challenge. Of course.

First of all... you must obviously read fanfiction. As if you don't already!

You also need to download and make your own copy of the spreadsheet, which can be found here, as well as below in the important links section.

To participate in the challenge, you read fics that match the tasks in the challenge. An example of a task can be: "read a fic with a title containing the word purple in it." Should be easy! Of course, there are harder ones.

Which is why there are different modes of challenge to the FRC. These are as follows:

Participation (Complete 1 task)

Regular Mode (Complete 80 tasks)

Hard Mode (Complete 150 tasks)

Extreme Mode (Complete 220 tasks)

Complete (Complete 250 tasks)

The challenge lasts from January 1st, 2025, to December 31st, 2025.

There are badges that go with the modes completed, and even a secret 6th badge that will be fairly obvious if you look at the spreadsheet! Doesn't mean it'll be easy to complete though. *smirks* (Blame Noxy)

Most important of all: this challenge operates on the honour system. We don't check your work, or your reading logs (see below), so I mean, I guess if you want to be slippery with the rules, you do you, and that's on your conscience, but honestly it's so much fun to see how much you can get done by following the letter of the law/tasks! You can be slippery even with following the tasks fully. It's great fun. ;D

I think that's enough for an intro, really, maybe too much.

Important Links and Reading Logs/Trackers

As there is a component of the FRC that includes tracking numbers of words read, most of us use a reading log/tracker to keep count of how many fics we read, including data such as words, of course, chapters, month completed, ship, author, title, fandom, link to the fic, and such. It's a great place to mark what fics you want to read in the future as well!

This year we have FOUR trackers on offer, quite different from one another, so take a look, play around with them and check out their "intros", and choose according to what you think will work best for you!

Fic Tracking Sheets

Juulna's 2025 Reading Log

Noxy's 2025 Reading Log

2025 Jandy's Fic Tracker

Taru's Fic Tracker 2025

Discord

We have a blast on Discord. From general chatter to sharing pet pics to being there for each other during the tough times to forming lasting friendships and making friendships you’d never make in a ship- or fandom-specific Discord, to asking for help ‘rolling the dice’ (pick a number between 1-10!) to choose the next fic to read, to finding some of the really challenging task fills in fandoms people might not have ever read but are willing to try, or finding fandoms someone has never read and is very tentative about stepping out of their box, but they’re being 100% supported and know they don’t need to complete the fic for it to count for the task, stepping out of their comfort zone… we’ve formed a very odd group of, if not friends, then companions (but there are definite friendships that have formed!! Just ask the people who have started watching NHL and NFL together in our off topic channel!).

In any case, our Discord is not necessary, but it is a worthy and tactical element to completing many of the tasks of this challenge. 💙

And.... without further ado....!

The 2025 Fanfic Reading Challenge! (link)

There is an info/rules page as the first sheet on the spreadsheet that should fill in any further questions you have. It also has more contact info than just this page if you have any further questions and perhaps need a more immediate answer for your needs.

*Occasionally you will run into something that looks like an error, and it may in fact be one! Let us know if you see it. It's hard not to make a mistake on as large a spreadsheet as this.*

Please, first of all, have fun and just read fanfiction that you enjoy! I (Juulna) did that last year and didn't even come close to completing the entire challenge, and I still had a blast because I was enjoying what I was reading and rereading. Others took the challenge right to the completed end. Others forgot about it halfway through but still had fun, and some even went back and filled in the sheet for a really good showing! The challenge is what you make of it, what you want from it. So... just have fun. Read fic. Smile. Enjoy. :)

Second of all... well, we would love if you signal boost this post!!!!

Third of all, we do have our pinned post that includes a link to this page and that will include a link to our Discord and all our trackers as well, including past links for memento and informative purposes.

Thank you, and a blessed 2025 to all!

#2025frc #2025 fic reading challenge #fic reading challenge #fanfic reading challenge #reading challenge #fandom events #fanfiction #challenges #goals #2025 goals #new year's resolutions

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euphoria-looney · 2 months ago

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Who Said Money Can't Buy Happiness?

Yan!Batfam x Neglected!Reader

m. list|prev|next

"Three things don't play about myself, my money, or my man. Mention one of them and best believe I'm gon' be at your head." 'Neva Play' by Megan Thee Stallion ft. RM

Divider Creds: @selysie , @lil-liaa and @bernardsbendystraws

This plot was inspired by @niwaart, @mimiiiiiiiiisstuff, and esp @coldilikeit

Oh crap, I'm still here.

Despite what manhwas tells you, being sent back in time is not fun. There is no technology, no social media, and I'm being literal here. I've regressed, and the social standards are so goofy. I shouldn't complain too much; I got a high title for reincarnating.

This sucked. I thought that was all a dream yesterday, this can't be happening to me.

Well, I have 500,000 gold coins, which makes me one of the richest people in the world.

Imagine this currency: copper, silver, and gold.

Since I've woken up, I might put the plan that I had in my mind into action.

Let's see if this is just like the movies.

I clapped my hands, and my magic started working. It was getting me ready, brushing my hair, changing my clothes, and applying skincare!

Why did I struggle so hard with the maids yesterday if it was this easy?! I guess that part was on me, but let's be honest, I did no wrong, so that mistake didn't happen.

A person knocked on my door, opening it to see a butler.

"Pardon me, princess, but I had been misguided by the other employees here and have arrived late, from today onwards, I'll be your butler."

I looked at him up and down, almost having a stroke, tell me why he looked like Aldira. My secretary? Though I did tell that biggie if I was going down, he'd come with me.

"No offense, you seem diligent at your job, but why am I not having a maid?"`

"All the maids were too afraid to become your personal assistant, and I took the position, I hope you don't mind that"

Damn, why are you so blunt?

"Your name?"

"Aldira's, Your Highness."

The way he carries himself and how he acts, on top of that, the name, why if I didn't know any better, he sounds just like my Aldira in my past life.

No, that is absurd.

Aldira's POV

For the longest time, I've had only one friend stick to me since we were at least teenagers.

My parents were strict and expected nothing but the best from me, from my grades to my activities and the future path that would await me.

My parents were at best middle class, and that I'm grateful for, don't get me wrong, but if I wasn't as intelligent as I was I would have never gone to Gotham Prep, got in with a scholarship, and excelled.

Unlike those dramatic shows or novels, I was not bullied for being the smartest in the school or being too poor to be one of them, instead, I would be what students admired and compared to.

Many people talked about me positively, and I carried an image that was something every parent would want.

But every time I checked the scoreboard, there was one person behind me in terms of rank, [name] Wayne. Though she went by [name] [last name] for some odd reason, one I would not figure out until later on.

The way we went was goofy, it wasn't cliche or anything. We had been invited to the same study group and my parents believed it would be a good opportunity to build connections with the upper class.

The study session turned boring quickly though and I was left doodling to myself while everyone was studying or asking me to help until I saw a pencil tap my journal making me lift my head to face her, [name].

"You read 'I Became the Male Lead's Adopted Daughter' too?"

That shocked me, how did she know that... is she a stalker?

Her eyes kind of pointed to my phone where the notification of a new chapter upload of the said manhwa popped up.

"Yeah, you read these types of stories too?"

"Sometimes."

And we hit it off from there.

"Can you believe some of the girls are saying we're dating?" I sipped on my black coffee as she drank her matcha latte.

"Wasn't it Parcilla, the girl who has a very weird crush on you?" She questioned me, making me nod.

"You biggie, that means I might be the next target to be bullied because of your fan club, nah, I'm too amazing to be the one bullied."

I slapped her upside the head from that comment.

Don't be fooled though, because behind her laid-back personality, she had a huge ego that could make anyone want to beat her up, she just never expresses it so she's easily likable and I enjoy that personality of hers.

Flash forward and we both have jobs and have monthly meet-ups.

I was busy typing away for my report on a report for my job as manager of a high-end company, of course, I couldn't complain. The salary was good, and I was able to save up for my family to get out of Gotham and head to another part of the world, they urged me to go but then I wouldn't be able to hang out with [name] which I know was a stupid reason but long-distance relationships were neither of our thing.

"Ugh, at this point these imbeciles won't give their report in time for our next meeting and we'll have to push it back to next week or something," I grumbled before hearing the timer go off indicating it was time to take off our face mask.

"Why don't you come and work for my company?" I heard her get up.

"Work for your company?" I repeated.

"Yeah, I mean it's non-profit, comes with many benefits including good insurance that fully works and not half-assed you, and it's triple your pay rate." My eyes widened at that preposterous claim.

"Besides, I need an assistant or secretary, it'd help me a lot." I went over to her and stole the tea that she made and took a sip.

"Fattie."

"IT'S TEA!"

"MY TEA THAT I MADE! YOU SAID THAT YOU DIDN'T WANT ANY!"

And I agreed and they're not lying when they say working together makes or breaks a relationship, as our friendship just grew even more.

Then one day on our hangouts she recommended a new novel to me.

"'I stole the loving family of the Villainess'? Now... the girl I know has no good stories at the moment, but what is this?"

"It's so bad that you want to continue reading the story. And I'm also a little biased since one of the characters has my name."

"No way."

"You want to bet?"

So I read it. And wow, she was not kidding. Also, how the hell did they incorporate her bearing a saintess into this?! As if it wasn't absurd enough...

So, while texting her what she wanted to eat while heading to our shared apartment, an out-of-control truck hit me and before I knew it I was in the story.

Talk about cliche and I arrived at the scene when [name] would shove Serena off but [name] was acting out of character making up some new dialogue, great, it's an even bigger cliche, someone reincarnates into the Villainess, bet she's going to end up forgiving everyone that was rude to her though.

Typical.

After the party and everything, Alfred, our head butler, asked us which one of the maids would volunteer to be Princess [name]'s new assistant. Since no one was going for it, I applied. I mean, the pay rate was great, and I've done my fair share in the retail industry, I know how to deal with goofy entitled customers.

So, why does she seem so familiar? I can't put my finger on it.

What if that's my [name] from my other life?

No, that's absurd and too fictional to work.

Heading to the dining room with my butler close behind, I eventually arrived.

"You're finally here big sister!" Serena's voice interrupted the wholesome family in front of me. Seems everyone had their fill already.

"You're late. Again, how disappointing." Palmola's voice was a sharp knife cutting through the silence that had developed.

"Well, I won't ruin your moods for too long, I have an appointment that I can't miss, so I'll just take this." I whisked away my breakfast and called for my new assistants to prepare a carriage for me.

"And where exactly?" Bruce demanded.

"Oh I'm sorry, I didn't know you cared about where I go and return from." I scrunch my face before heading off.

"I am your father [name]."

"Your majesty, the only people in this room who are talking are the Emperor and a princess, not father and daughter."

Aldira opened the carriage door, allowing me to step in before going in himself.

"May I know where you're headed today, Your Highness?" The coachman asked.

"The mine at WestFord."

"The mine that has been empty for years? Why, my lady, why would you ever need to go there?

"Exploring."

I'm taking a gamble on this and meeting John Constantine before purchasing it.

I sent him a letter before heading to bed last night and got a reply.

'It would be an honor to sell this cavern to you, Your Highness.

Sincerely,

Duke Constantine.

Well, it was more detailed than that but that's the premise of what he wrote back.

Stepping off the carriage I arrived at the cave. I noticed the Duke.

"Your Highness, how are you doing this fine morning?" He reached out a hand for me to shake.

I took it, his grip firm before I pulled away as did he.

"No need for small talk, it seems this cave would be fine."

"Your Highness, don't you think you're being too rash?! We haven't looked yet!" Aldira came in front of my face frantically.

"I have a hunch. But do me the honor of looking around before I seal the contract."

He didn't need to hear another word before rushing in, before coming out and began making calculations with his magic.

"At best this cave should settle for 45,000 gold, right Duke Constantine?"

"Indeed, young man, Your Highness, would you mind that price?" He asked me before I nodded.

Pulling out a contract, we both read the terms and conditions before signing our names, making our names and the contract glow, making the contract finalized with no loopholes and in no way to break it unless both parties agree.

"What powerful magic you have, unlike the rumors."

I shrugged, fanning myself, “There are things many people didn’t know about me, but what does it matter? Why should the public know anything about me?” I questioned the Duke.

He chuckled to himself before shaking his head.

“No, not at all, Your Highness, everyone has things they’d like to keep to themselves after all. May I inquire if you will attend today’s coming-of-age celebration at the Acentro Twins?” The last event we went to that became a topic that’s still being talked about most times [P!name] would stay home while the rest of her family went, worsening her reputation.

Which doesn’t make sense, shouldn’t that make it better?

This world is so hateful of my girl.

“Indeed, it would only make sense to. Well, if that’s all I should be off, I have no time to waste, after all a lady needs her time to get ready.” I walked back to the carriage, and Aldira followed me close behind.

The Marquis family, the Acentro. Known for being great in the business world, and even better for their swordsmanship abilities. Recently, the daughter of their house decided to go against society's customs and do archery. But that got overshadowed by the canceling of my engagement.

She and her brother are both very cunning and intelligent, from what I heard, so their coming-of-age ceremony will be huge, last I checked. It would be good if I made relations with them.

“Aldira, you'll be attending the ceremony with me, no?”

He looked away from the windows and nodded, “Yes, your highness.”

I just can’t shake the feeling that he’s from another world like me, my Aldira.

“Aldira, you seem to know a lot about business, where do you come from?”

This seemed to catch him off guard as he didn’t respond right away like he usually does.

“Somewhere far, is all. One that is rather advanced but I think it’s gone now.”

“Have you ever heard of someone named ‘Batman’? Silly, right? But that weird name just came to me.”

Batman, Gotham’s vigilante superhero. My good-for-nothing father slowly started acknowledging me after I left the manor. It’s quite uncanny how, in both lives, I still have him as my father, though that could be said for my entire family in this world except my Palmola and Serena.

That made him shocked, eyes widening, looking into mine, like he was thinking over something.

“Are you [name] [last name], Your Highness?”

“Depends, will you still make me coffee in the morning if I confirm that I am, my dear secretary.”

At that, he practically lunged at me, wrapping his hands around my waist, his head laying on my lap, this would be a terrible position to be in. I patted his head and was also relieved about the revelation, but it was kind of obvious.

“Holy crap, this was not a cliche I expected.” He pulled away, holding onto my shoulders.

“Tell me about it, do you think there are other reincarnations in this world?” He shook his head.

“My system tells me that I’ve located the only other reincarnation in this world, I knew it was you, I just didn’t know it was my [name].”

“System?” I asked.

“Yeah, did you not get one, I have one that shows my stats and has a quest for me to do.” This is too many story plots for me to handle.

“No, this is crazy, anyway of that system getting us home, though?” Aldira shook his head at that, making me slouch in my seat.

I scoffed, “This has been one crazy day that I did not expect.”

“Your Highness, we have made it home.” I heard the coachman announce. Aldira helped me down. Back in this miserable place, right after I left it in my previous life. Thoughts and prayers in the chat guys.

I decided to take a fat nap, setting an alarm before waking up to this monstrosity.

Maids running around like there was a killer on their backs, and were getting outfits and attire ready, crazy how I got no help at all though. By the time I got myself ready and was finishing the touch-ups on Aldria’s, I spotted my family in a family set of clothes all matching.

It was expected though so nothing I should worry about.

“Wouldn’t this just cause more scandals for you [name]? We’re matching right after your broken engagement.” Aldira scolded me but didn’t back away from receiving my help.

“Don’t kill the mood, Al, just look at how cute we are matching.”

He could only sigh, massaging his forehead, but behind that was a small smile.

What could interrupt this wholesome moment, how about the buffoons behind me?

"Don't you think you've done enough damage to the family, imagine? First the engagement and now your outfit? Matching with a common servant?" Damian scoffed.

"It's called, My entire family decided to choose an outfit and left their 4th princess out of it, but still included the peasant girl. Or did I leave the part where I had a matching outfit?"

"We didn't- I just- You shouldn't speak to your little brother that way, young lady, have some etiquette.'' Palmola inquired.

"Right. My brother."

Barbara coughed into her fist.

"Well, we'd like to inform you that Serena might just be attacked riding alone so she'll have to retake your spot.

"That's fine, I wasn't planning on going in a carriage anyway, too bumpy for my taste, and wouldn't want to leave Aldira alone." I pinned our matching jewelry on his suit and brushed dirt away from his outfit.

"Anything else?" I turned to face them. Some looked hesitant but Palmola took the lead and left. Walking with grace to the carriage.

"How do you feel about teleportation? I'm not one to be late to an event."

"Would love to try it, die wanting to try it, let's do it." Aldira bluntly stated.

"If we die, you can't blame me."

"On second thought-," I snatched his hand before we got teleported.

Arriving at the front of the line, I fixed my outfit.

"That was not bad, great even." No side effects, why yes, magic truly is a blessing phenomenon. Aldira also looked fine, so it seemed I managed this spell just fine, but is anyone surprised? It's me, after all.

The guard standing there nearly jumped out of his boots and bowed lowly. "Welcome, Your Highness! Ehem, Entering her Highness, Princess [name] Wayne!"

"You see that, Al? Even in this life, I'm too important and pretty to ignore."He deadpanned at me.

"That's because you're a very, and I mean very controversial princess. In a bad way. Remember how the original princess got executed because she was rude to the peasant MC?"

"That's why I hated the novel so much, duh. I still can't believe we're stuck here," I was exasperated.

The murmurs that were once stuck in regular conversations go into gossip, between the fact that I arrived without my family once again, and that my attendant wasn't a female but rather male.

I arrived before the twins and got my gift from my special storage.

For Artemis, a bow and arrows, and Apollo, a lyre.

"What an incompetent girl! The gifts are switched." A woman scoffed

"A woman holding a bow, please, what a mockery." A man grumbled.

The twins examined the gifts before looking back up at me.

"A bow?" Artemis grinned at me with a raised eyebrow.

"And a lyre?" Apollo added.

"Indeed, I hope you guys enjoy it, I picked it based on what I believed would suit you guys." I curtsied before going down to the ballroom.

"They play a huge part in the novel in the business industry, not only that, Artemis is known for being the best huntress of the time and years later, with Apollo also being skilled in the music industry and known for understanding how to use a bow and arrow to.

Why, it'd be a shame if we let this opportunity slide to not get on their good side and eventually have them cooperate with us, my dear Aldira." Aldira only gave me a plate of food and started making one for himself.

"Yes, while you're acting like a mastermind over there, honey, how about we eat food before I pass out from the amount of stress I've accumulated." I took his and my plate and put it away on our separate table.

"Can't, dancing in a few moments, can't throw up on the dance floor, and you, being the lucky guy of the night, are joining me."

"We didn't know how to dance back at our high school dance." I flicked my hair back and accidentally hit him in the face.

He coughed out some of the hair from his mouth and squinted at me.

"Our 'dances' that we did were scandalous for their times and even more if we do it here." He's so dramatic.

"Announcing the Waynes, the moonlight of the kingdom!" that door entrance guy announced.

"Look it's Serena, her outfit makes her look so different but she fits right in!"

"I want that outfit too! So chic and cute!"

"She might as well be the fourth princess rather than-"

"Shh!"

Aldira takes another bite of his food and can't help but grit his teeth. This world was just like the last one he was in, how he was still mad when the oldies from their modern time switched their tone on you once you built your multi-billion company on your own.

Before his attention was snatched away by you again, like always uncaring, which was one of the reasons he had admired you, not only because you were his friend.

"That's what makes it fun, Al, don't be a party pooper." Just then the orchestra started, I dragged him away from the food he just got for us and reached the dance floor.

It was just slow steps, one hand on his shoulder and the other on his arm.

"Look, isn't that her?"

"Dancing with... a butler."

"Do you think..."

The chorus soon came along and I was twirled a few times by

Aldira, before gliding in between his legs and making a swift recovery, twirled some more before he dipped me to the ground, our faces close, our bodies closer to each other and the song finished.

(Dance scene summed up, creds to the idea: @randomlyappearingartist)

"See, I told you this was fun." He could only sweatdrop and sigh before pulling the both of us up and escorting us back to the food.

"D-Did you see that?"

"Didn't she just divorce Prince Connor?"

"You don't think..."

"What other reason, and the look she gave that servant."

"There's no mistaking it."

I finished my food and stretched out of tiredness, "Man, I wonder what got this event in a stir..." I mumbled.

"We have to schedule a meeting with the twins soon, by the way, I have to get them into my business if I want it to blossom." Aldira nodded before telling me that he was off to get more food.

"Well, I'm going to the balcony, I was feeling claustrophobic with the amount of people crowding the room.

I was on the balcony waiting for Aldira to come back soon after grabbing another plate of food. Behind me was an approaching Grand Duke of the North with signature black hair and red eyes. His outfit's color base was black with red being the secondary base, gold details that showed off the title and golden buttons, a fur coat surrounding his neck, and the cape down to his heel.

Grand Duke Isnwalt, Onyx Isnwalt. He played a major influence on the world, both feared and respected, but didn’t become a main lead but rather just an important figure in the world. I think Serena interacted with him once but her love interest got jealous and dragged her away from him, and he didn’t think much of the interaction other than that it was weird.

“What do I owe the pleasure of meeting the Grand Duke of the North, Sir Isnwalt?” I turned to him and curtsied.

“Right now you and that butler of yours are the talk of the ball, with your dance moves from earlier, surely you would know why I approached you.” He swirled his champagne in his glass, and a deep chuckle accompanied his words.

“Why I wouldn’t say the dance was all that interesting.” I tilted my head back at him. He put his glass down on the balcony ledge and focused his attention back on me, both of us just staring back at each other before he finally spoke.

“That butler of yours… he’s interesting…” I had to turn away and let out a little stifled laugh. Never saw that coming.

I heaved a deep breath in before turning back to him.

“I-is that so?” I pinched my thigh from laughing again.

“Indeed, not like any other person I’ve ever met, would you mind letting me meet him?” Maybe it’s the way he’s so straightforward about it, or maybe it’s because he’s so serious about it, but it’s making me laugh. But I can’t- I have to hold it in.

Be who you are for your pride~

“I’ll have to think on that, Grand Duke Onyx” I spread my fan out placing it in front of my face. “For you see my butler is very important to me and we have so little time to be separate from each other as he’s such a hardworking servant to me.”

Just then, with great timing, I would say Aldira's showed up, and the Grand Duke approached him, holding his hands and giving the kiss to the tip of his fingers before staring at him.

I took a sip of my champagne, basking in the romance.

"Oh..." Aldira looked shocked before quickly pulling away. He awkwardly laughed before pulling away.

"What the hell.." Aldira scrunched up, making Onyx chuckle in a deep tone, and, what hold on is that blush coating his cheeks?

"You're not like anyone I've ever met before, you're... different, (fine shyt) darling. And you smell rather... sweet."

Wait hold on...? Smell? I feel like I'm forgetting a huge thing about this novel.

Aldira shivered from hugging himself and turned to look at me for help, making me step in.

"Aldira, This is Grand Duke, Onyx Isnwalt. An influential personal worldwide who has contributed very much to our kingdom, and has been labeled the lady and gentleman killer."

He was jaw dropped before whispering in my ear.

"Man idgaf about who he is, I'm getting harassed."

I pulled out my fan, which was my new favorite thing to do now, and whispered back.

"I understand and was going to ask for business cooperation and use you as a guinea pig, but we don't have to... unless..."

Onyx coughed into his fist, making both our attention go to him.

"Dear..."

Aldira hesitated before replying. "Aldira..."

"Aldira," He said slowly before smirking to himself.

"May I have the honor of inviting you to dinner with me? Tomorrow at the Brits Restaurant, anytime you'd like.

"Look, I appreciate the gesture-"

"50 gold as compensation for your troubles"

Aldira hesitates but his greed overcomes his thoughts and he accepts.

I felt like I was interrupting something until Aldira turned around and tugged on my sleeve. "Can we go now?" I smiled and nodded before going to the break room.

"So, how was that?" He deadpanned at me.

"Not fun." He laid his head on my shoulder but then we saw a woman with pink hair looking lost.

I approached her, making Aldira's sag down.

"Are you lost, miss..."

“Oh! Starfire, Princess of Tamaran.” I curtsied that she was Dick’s fiance.

“Prince Richard's fiance.” I stood up and looked at her.

“You know him?”

“I am a citizen of Wayne's Kingdom.” I played it off.

“My escort and I could take you to him.” Aldira stood up and walked next to me.

“We can?” I elbowed his stomach.

“Yes, we can.”

As we made it forward, you could see the picture-perfect family, a girl in the center of their attention laughing, with a cute little giggle.

“Ehem” I coughed into my fist.

“[N-name] I wasn’t-” Serena started… I think she has the wrong impression on why I’m here.

“Not you, you” I directed my attention to Dick

“Your fiance has been waiting for you, big brother.”

“Big brother? But he only has four? And if you're not the three I've already met you must be the youngest... however, you’re not the blonde girl with blue eyes." Starfire asked, though not in a mocking way but geniuen curiosity.

This was a major plot point in the future that [name] goes batshit crazy on.

However, I could feel my eye twitching, it's laughable how they treated her despite her position it's almost like they forgot who decided to shoot the load creating her, and if weren't for the fact she was got embarrassed everyday it's the fact that those incompetent nincompoop contributed maybe it's the fact that they favored a peasant over her.

It's hard, not to feel a little annoyed by the display, almost enough to chuck glass on the ground and shove it down their throat till you shred their voice box.

...

But I could never do that, I'm too nice, too kind.

Some were waiting for the drama to unfold, what's next would [name] grab Serena's hair then leaving one of her family members to take Serena side like always, throw a tantrum, or something most.

Others were excited to gossip about the scandal of this entire event.

Most were watching with interest.

Then [name] made a move, slowly turning around and slightly titling her head.

“What did you just say?” [name] directed her attention to Starfire.

Most were sweating, some were ready for the inevitable…

Anyway, this is more of a filler chap. Then anything but hey we got some new characters! Might make something that has face claims for my ocs, idk.

Did you like? 😏

Spring Break has arrived so guess who will be working their booty off (probably).

Anyway taglist. Hopefully I didn't forget or mispell anyone.

Also, send in a request in stuff and hopefully I get to them!

@kittzu @charlenexoxo1 @bat1212 @silverklaus @sillysealsies @roseytheteacup @iliveinyourwallsrat @cozmie @tomoyaki @cynniee @jsprien213 @kore-of-the-underworld @anonymoushehehehe @ninihrtss @devia @fanficloverlol @masterradd-28 @aigenarated @welpthisisboring @h-ib @diemdurantia @alishii @random4137 @totired0-0 @00hellohello00 @sh4rk-k1d @shadowytravelerlover @r-u-s-s-i-a-h @paperhermits @ocean-mochi @simpingpandas @crazycaoticsimp @candlejuice @twismare @itsberrydreemurstuff @delias-stuff @shycreatorreview @randomlyappearingartist @not-aya @c4xcocoa @midnightgrimoire @time-shardz @narcisolefay1 @ryuushou @animerules898

#platonic batfam #yandere batfamily #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfamily x reader #batfam x neglected reader #yandere batfam #batfam #neglected reader #platonic yandere batfam

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